


Sick

by tendervittles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Consensual, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sadism, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:16:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendervittles/pseuds/tendervittles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reek gets sick and Roose gets mad.  Now Ramsay has to take care of his pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I went from casual Thramsay shipper to hardcore Thramsay enthusiast in a weekend and this is the result. This is the first fic I've ever taken seriously and displayed publicly in my life, so don't judge too harshly, please.

 

         Reek knows he is sick, very sick, and that knowledge brings tears to his eyes. He struggles not to let them fall; his tears belong to Lord Ramsay now.

         But he can’t die now, he just can’t, not when he finally knows his name. What awaits him in death? The Drowned God’s watery halls, as the Damphair believes?  Reek isn’t Ironborn and the Dreadfort is far from the sea.  And surely the Seven would see him rot in the lowest levels of the hells.  As long as he didn’t have to see Robb again, and all those others he betrayed before he knew his name…

         A boot flips Reek over onto this back, momentarily breaking through his fevered haze. “What’s wrong with you?  Get up! _Up_ , I said!”

         Reek tries, he tries so hard, nearly making it to his feet before his knees give out and he crashes back down to the kennel floor.  The best he can do is shake and let the tears fall on his lord’s boots.

         “M’lord, I don’t thinks he’s faking.” One of Ramsay’s boys – Reek can’t parse out which – says.

 “Gods help me, if you’re just being dramatic, Reek…” Ramsay hisses, squatting down in the straw and grabbing a handful of Reek’s greasy hair, wrenching his captive’s head back.  Reek moans and a line of spittle escapes from the side of his mouth.  His head lolls. The dogs whine.

Ramsay presses a hand roughly to Reek’s forehead and sighs. “ _Very well_.” He growls, slapping at Reek’s face, as if it’s his fault he’s sick (and Reek knows it is).  But Ramsay draws his servant’s frail body into his arms.

* * *

 

Reek supposes Lord Ramsay must have carried him all the way to the maester’s chambers, because he comes to as Ramsay deposits him unceremoniously on a wooden table and he can hear his lord barking orders. “I don’t care what you have to do, just _fix him_!”

“My lord,” the old man replies, “this… he is being ravaged by fever.  I’ll do what I can, but in such a state… He is likely in the gods’ hands now.”

“Pft! The gods.” Ramsay spits. He grabs Reek’s face roughly, his fingers splayed across his pet’s lower jaw.  “You’re not to die, I forbid it.  Do you understand me, Reek?”

The best Reek can manage is a moan and a pitiful nod, but Ramsay must be satisfied because he allows the maester to tip a cup of dreamwine to Reek’s lips.

“…My lord, your son…”

“My _bastard_ , you mean…”

“Very well. He bid me to heal his… creature. I explained the realities of the boy’s situation, but I could not disobey.”

“Yes, yes,” Roose Bolton murmurs in his eerily even voice, “My son must learn… We are still at war, winter is upon us, and he cannot squander valuable resources just because he can’t stop breaking his toys.”

“Should I arrange to have the boy returned to the… ah… kennels?”

“No, I have something else in mind.  A bit of punishment for Ramsay, to teach him to take better care of his things. I’ll send someone for Greyjoy.”

 _That’s not my name_ , Reek wants to protest, _you have me confused with someone else_.  But his head is still swimming with dreamwine and fever and he isn’t even sure he understood the conversation correctly.

* * *

 

Later, he drifts in the place between consciousness and oblivion.  Usually it’s warm there, but Reek is so cold.  The rocking motion is nice, though, and scenery is flitting by… a window, the colorful tapestries, the grey stone that makes up the Dreadfort… it all blurs together into a pulsing mass. 

Reek stops floating abruptly.  There is a key turning in a lock; the hinges of a heavy oaken door squeal.  The noise hurts and Reek moans, then somehow his body is lying on a soft carpet.  The plush weave is comforting against his cheek.

Time passes.  Reek watches the sun move (except when he’s lying in a patch of light… then his eyes burn and he clamps them shut and waits for it to go away). When the sun is behind him, Reek tries to make sense of where he is. 

He can’t bring himself to move, but from his position on the floor, Reek sees the feet of a wardrobe and a bench piled with pillows.  The pillows look soft and Reek is distracted by fantasies of what it might feel like to lay his head on one of them.  Maybe, if he is good, if he remembers his name and obeys his lord…

The door slams and a small cry escapes Reek’s lips as Lord Ramsay’s boots move into view.

“Well, well, well –” Ramsay pauses to crouch so Reek can see his face and the anger there. “That puffed-up maester thinks he can just foist you off on me with no consequences, just because _my father ordered it_.”

Ramsay’s chambers. Roose Bolton ordered him brought to Ramsay’s chambers. 

Reek moans and begins to cries.  He hurts, he hurts all over.  His body is freezing, burning, then freezing.  The spaces between his remaining fingers and toes throb as painfully as if the digits were freshly removed and the space between his legs…

“Ohh,” Ramsay croons, reaching out a hand to stroke Reek’s sweat-matted hair, “Did I scare you, little Reek?  There, there, come to Ramsay, sweetness.”

Bone-tired, Reek still tries to struggle to his hands and knees to approach his lord. Ramsay, ever impatient, doesn’t wait and hooks his fingers under Reek’s collar, tugging and drawing the smaller man into his arms.

“There we are.” Ramsay murmurs as he settles Reek against him.  “You are a weak little thing, aren’t you?”

“Weak… rhythms with Reek.”

Ramsay laughs, his chest vibrating against Reek’s back.  “That’s very good!  You remember. But I need you to be strong now, dear. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes, m’lord.” Reek replies, “Please… I only want to serve you.”

“Shhh,” Lord Ramsay gathers Reek into his arms, lifting him off the floor, “I know, I know.”

They settle on the bed and Ramsay removes his cloak, the one he favors, red blood drops on a pink field, lined with thick black fur.  Reek is startled when Ramsay wraps the fine cloth around his own thin shoulders.

“Isn’t that better?” His lord coos, “Now let me see about your bath…”


	2. Chapter 2

Left alone, Reek’s thoughts race. Lord Ramsay loves to confuse him, to play tricks…

Bath? He isn’t allowed to _have_ a bath.  Maybe he’s delirious, Lord Ramsay couldn’t have said _bath_.  Or maybe it’s all a jape and he’s going to be punished for not immediately telling his lord that he remembers the rule.

A high-pitched keening noise is cutting through Reek’s thoughts, mystifying him further. It takes a moment before he realizes the sound is rising from the back of his throat.  Reek lets his body tip to one side, onto the bed furs. His maimed hands pull Ramsay’s cloak over his head like a hood and he clutches the fabric as tight as he’s able at the base of his throat.

Several more minutes past before Ramsay returns with two anxious-looking serving women, carrying a large tub between them.  Steam rises from the surface of the water.

Ramsay eyes Reek, still huddled under the cloak.  “Leave us.” He orders the servants away without looking at them.

 _My lord_ , Reek had mentally rehearsed, _I remember my rules; you haven’t permitted me to bathe. Reek, Reek, it rhythms with freak._

But by the time Ramsay is approaches, righting him so Reek is sitting up again, a pitiful wheezing is all he can manage.

“Hush now,” Ramsay presses his lips to the shell of Reek’s ear, “Let’s get you undressed, shall we?”

As malleable as a child’s cloth doll, Reek allows Ramsay to manipulate his limbs and undress him, discarding his filthy rags on the floor.

Now without even the poorest protection from the chill of the evening air, Reek shivers, but Ramsay rubs the back of his shoulders before hooking an arm under Reek’s legs and lifting him as easily as a mother might lift her babe in arms.

As Ramsay begins to lower him in the water, Reek finds the strength to cling to his master’s neck. “Please… My lord… I’m not allowed… you said…”

“You have my permission.”  Ramsay’s voice is still soft, but the threat is there – an order in the guise of an allowance.

Reek gasps as Ramsay settles him into the water.  He can’t remember the last time he felt so warm.  He exhales slower and his eyes drift closed as he leans back.

“Over.” Ramsay instructs.

Reek looks shyly up at his lord, now standing disrobed before him.  Gods know Reek has seen Ramsay naked before, but never under such circumstances.  Without the accompanying violence, Reek isn’t sure how to react.  The scene is strangely intimate.

But he moves aside all the same and Ramsay steps into the water.

Ramsay settles behind Reek, resting his back against the side of the tub.  He draws a wet cloth from the water and motions Reek to him.  Reek releases a shaky sigh as he allows his body to relax again, tucked between Ramsay’s strong thighs. Ramsay rubs the cloth across Reek’s shoulders and back, gently scrubbing away weeks’ worth of blood, sweat and grime.  Some of the fresher lacerations sting, but Reek doesn’t pull away; he is duly grateful to receive such care at all.

Reek holds still and allows himself to be rubbed down all over, until Ramsay tries to pass the cloth over the misshapen scar between Reek’s legs.  Without thinking, Reek whimpers and shifts away, sloshing the water about with his sudden movements.

“No… please… not there…”

As much as he wants to preserve Ramsay’s caring mood, Reek can’t abide any sensation drawing his attention to that… space.  To his surprise, Ramsay acquiesces, for the moment.

“Come now, Reek, don’t want you want to get well for me?” He murmurs against his pet’s ear, “I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“Yes, m’lord.” Reek replies, tearing up, “I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to… inconvenience you.”

“None of that now. You need to relax, my Reek.”

Ramsay wipes Reek’s tears away and cleans the dirt from his face before wetting Reek’s hair and lathering it with soap.  Reek stills and closes his eyes, resting his face between Ramsay’s neck and shoulder and focusing on the sensation of Ramsay’s hand massaging his scalp.

“There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ramsay asks.

He has resumed cleaning Reek’s scar without him realizing.

“All done.”

Ramsay pulls Reek to his feet again and helps him from the bath (the water now considerably dirty), drying himself only after taking care of Reek first.

“On the bed.” Ramsay orders, picking up a small tin from his bedside table.”

 _Oh_.  Reek stiffens.  He should have known this was coming.  How is he going to please Lord Ramsay in this state?

Nevertheless, though he can barely hold himself up, Reek positions himself on his hands and knees.

He chances a glance at Ramsay when his lord starts laughing.

“Oh Reek, sweet, dumb, Reek.” Ramsay cackles.

“M’lord?”

“On your _stomach_.”

Reek still doesn’t quite understand, until Ramsay starts applying the salve onto his numerous wounds.

“Ohh—ahhh.” Reek can’t suppress his moans; it feels too good.

Ramsay finishes applying the treatment and dresses Reek in one of his own shirts – a soft white thing, of the highest quality.  The garment clings to Reek’s back, but it doesn’t irritate his injuries like his usual rags.

Ramsay smirks as he fastens his cloak around Reek’s shoulders once again to stop his shivering.

“Look at that, Reek. You look almost the proper little lordling!”

Reek hangs his head. He is no lord; he only looks as he does thanks to his master’s kindness.

But Ramsay is ruffling his hair, smiling with only a hint of his usually mockery, and there is a soft knocking on the door and Ramsay announces, “That must be our dinner.”

For a fleeting moment, Reek feels, if not happy, then almost at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo, finally finished chapter 2! It ended a little sweeter than I anticipated, but whatevs, Reek deserves a LITTLE enjoyment at least. Finishing exams tomorrow, so hopefully chapter 3 won't take me as long. Enjoy! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing this was intense.  
> Roose in the next chapter.  
> Enjoy, sweetlings. <3

Ramsay fetches the dinner tray, placing it on the bed in front of Reek, who stares in wonder at the most food he’s had so close in him in ages.  The smells are overwhelming; enough to distract Reek from his various aches and pains.

Ramsay settles next to him and wraps an arm around Reek’s hip to pull him closer.

“Doesn’t that look good?” His lord murmurs teasingly against Reek’s ear.

The food _does_ look good, so good – and everything is soft enough for Reek to manage, even with his broken and missing teeth – mashed potatoes, half a chicken for each of them, cooked to perfection, pease and carrots (cooked to soften them, of course), drenched in butter. There is even a small plate of cakes and pastries for dessert.

The meat peels off the chicken bones easily; Ramsay holds a piece to Reek’s lips, which he eagerly accepts. 

Their meal continues in this manner.  In between his own bites, Ramsay feeds Reek by hand and lets him sip at a cup of water. A servant comes to build a fire and the room grows pleasantly warm.  Ramsay slips an arm around Reek’s shoulders.

Reek twitches at the contact and Ramsay squeezes his upper arm lightly.

“Isn’t this nice?”

“Yes m’lord. Thank you.”

“You don’t look very pleased.” Ramsay scolds.

Reek fumbles for the right words.  “M-m’lord, I’m sorry… I… it hurts… I’m grateful to you, really…”

“Shhh.” Ramsay moves his hand to the back of Reek’s head, gripping his hair and pulling him forward slightly, not quite painfully, but enough that Reek ends up half-sitting in Ramsay’s lap.

“I’m just teasing, precious.” Ramsay says, holding Reek’s head close to his own. Their foreheads brush together. “Come on, give us a smile.”

Reek contorts his mouth and thinks he manages to twitch the corners of his mouth into something that might look _almost_ like a smile, if your standards aren’t very high.

Ramsay makes a humming noise in the back of his throat.  “That’s very cute.” He says thickly, before pressing his lips to Reek’s forehead.

“Now how about some dessert?” He asks.

“Please.” Reek pants, nodding enthusiastically.  He can hardly remember what sweets taste like.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Ramsay raises an eyebrow, “My poor, sick Reek, I don’t want you retching all over on top of everything else.”

Reek nods. “Just like a few bites, m’lord. If it please you.”

Ramsay looks him over carefully, scrutinizing Reek’s battered, broken body thoughtfully. Reek shifts uncomfortably. Ramsay looks about to say something, but seems to change his mind and instead lifts a tart to Reek’s mouth.

Reek readily accepts the treat, gobbling it down a bit too quickly.  He sputters and coughs, spraying crumbs.

“Oh dear.” Ramsay chides, thumping Reek on the back.  “That’s enough of that, I think.”

“Thank you, m’lord.” Reek says when he recovers.  “For-for everything.”

He really is grateful. It’s absurd and wrong and causes an ache deep inside him, but nevertheless true.

Reek yawns suddenly. Maybe Ramsay didn’t hurt him today, but the strangeness of the day and his illness have taken their own toll. His belly is full with a real meal and the unusual fullness is making him feel slow and tired.

“Time for bed then.” Ramsay never seems to miss a thing Reek does.

A terrible thought seizes him then – maybe Ramsay is about to send him back to the kennels for the night, as he usually does.  Reek begins wringing his mutilated hands anxiously.  Ramsay takes his time clearing away the remnants of their meal.

When he finally does look at Reek again, he grins.  “What?” He asks, raising his eyebrows mockingly.

“M-M’lord—“ Reek mumbles.

“What?” Ramsay demands, “Spit it out!”

“Where… do you want me… I mean, where—“

“Where, where _what_?”

Reek knows his lord is losing what little patience he has.

“Where should I-ahh… spend the night…?  M’lord?”

Ramsay smiles gleefully; Reek knows this was what he intended all along.  His master often knows what his pet wants to say, but makes him voice his thoughts, especially when Ramsay knows it will cause him discomfort.

Ramsay sighs dramatically and studies Reek, cocking his head to one side.

“I’ll tell you what, Reek!” He announces, “I’ll let you choose!  The kennels or my bed?”

Reek hesitates, but not for long.  Ramsay probably sees the choice as extremely generous, probably thinks he should be falling all over himself for a chance to sleep in a real bed and continue keeping his illness at bay.

“I’ll-I’ll take the bed, m’lord.” He says quickly, spitting the words out as fast as he can so the choice is made and he can’t take them back.

Ramsay nods, still smirking.

“Very well. Up.”

Reek stands and Ramsay turns down the bed, arranging the pillows, sheets and furs before sitting again. Reek stares, losing himself in thoughts of spending the night in the midst of such luxury.

“Well?” Ramsay’s voice pulls him back to the moment, “Haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

“No, m’lord.” Reek hobbles as fast as his maimed feet will let him and very nearly throws himself onto the mattress.

Ramsay laughs. “What an enthusiastic bedwarmer! I guess something good _has_ come out of this little sickness of yours.”

“Yes m’lord.”

Ramsay pulls Reek on top of him, shifting his significantly smaller body so he is cradled in Ramsay’s arms. Ramsay lifts his legs onto the bed and lays back against the pillows with Reek against his chest.

“This _is_ nice, isn’t it?” He muses, more to himself than Reek, as he piles the blankets and furs on tops of them.

Reek doesn’t reply, but as nervous as he feels to have his lord so close, Ramsay’s warmth more than makes up for his apprehensions.  Reek breathes deeply and exhales slowly, wriggling to burrow himself further under the blankets.  Ramsay holds him tighter and hums in his ear.

They lay still for a few moments. 

Reek listens to Ramsay’s breathing, wondering idly if his lord is asleep yet.  As if he knew Reek’s thoughts, Ramsay snakes an arm down to Reek’s hip, pressing his fingers into Reek’s protruding pelvic bone hard as he nuzzles Reek’s neck.  Reek whimpers as he feels Ramsay’s hardness against the curve of his ass.

“Shhh, be still.” Ramsay whispers, “I’m just playing.”  He shifts, bodily entangling Reek.

Supporting Reek’s head with one large hand, Ramsay presses a kiss to his mouth, firm yet soft. Reek allows himself to respond, sighing against his lord’s lips, opening easily for Ramsay’s tongue. He doesn’t notice that Ramsay has positioned himself between his legs until he feels Ramsay’s cock against his entrance.

“Oh my Reek,” Ramsay murmurs against Reek’s lips, “You need to relax, sweetling.” He places two fingers against Reek’s lips and Reek dutifully accepts them, sucking.

Ramsay lets him work longer than necessary, rolling his hips to grind his cock against Reek without penetrating him.

Finally, he removes his fingers from Reek’s mouth, turning his attention lower, working the moistened digits inside, whispering encouraging words.

“That’s my good, good, obedient Reek.”

Reek cries out when Ramsay finally enters him, though not entirely from pain.  Ramsay keeps a steady pace with Reek writhing beneath him, his body on fire with the mixture of pain and pleasure that only Ramsay seems capable of igniting.

Just when Reek feels like he might finally die of the sensation, Ramsay quickens his thrusts. Reek’s skull collides with the headboard several times before he feels Ramsay’s cock twitching inside him and his lord drops his full weight onto Reek’s body.

Ramsay growls contentedly, nipping at Reek’s ear.  He pulls out finally and rolls onto his side, tucking Reek against him.

“You’re a very good dog, my Reek.”

“T-thank you, m’lord.” Reek stammers.

Ramsay laces his fingers through those still remaining to Reek and tucks their joined hands beneath Reek’s cheek.

“Sometimes you need to… sweat out an illness.” Ramsay chuckles at his own joke. He gives Reek’s hip a squeeze.

“Goodnight, sweetling.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

The last two waking creatures in the Dreadfort still and sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that time I promised Roose in this chapter?  
> Welllllll not yet. But he'll DEFINITELY WITHOUT A DOUBT be in the next one.  
> Thanks so much for sticking with me. <3

Reek sleep deeply. He doesn’t dream and only wakes when the sun is high and most of the castle has already been up for hours. Ramsay’s arm is thrown carelessly over him.  The bigger man still sleeps, breathing evenly, his face wiped clean of all temper and contempt. Reek savors the moment.

For a man whose movements are so forceful, Ramsay wakes slowly and easily.  Ever eerily aware of his charge, Reek’s master stretches and his eyes flicker open, immediately settling on Reek looking up at him.

Lord Ramsay doesn’t speak, just moves an arm to casually stroke Reek’s hair. 

“D-did you sleep well, m’lord?” Reek asks timidly, feeling he should say something.

Ramsay chuckles darkly, fingering the pale strands of Reek’s hair.  “Very well, my Reek.”

His lord looks expectant, so Reek says, “It was very nice... to b-be so cozy, m’lord. Thank you… for letting me stay here with you.”

“Oh, you’ll always have a place with me, Reek.” Ramsay replies lazily, grazing his nails up Reek’s spine.  “Don’t you worry about that.”

Reek wants to shiver, but manages to control it.

Fortunately, suddenly, Ramsay bounds out of bed.  “Breakfast!” He announces, pulling on his clothes.

Reek gapes in wonder. Could it be?  Lord Ramsay is going to let him eat well for two meals? _In a row?_

Perhaps he has been so sick that this is nothing but a fever-driven hallucination.

Ramsay rushes out of the room, slamming the door in his wake.

Reek presses a hand to his forehead; it still feels too hot, although the night spent away from the kennels has done him some good.  He doesn’t feel stronger, but a certain degree of bone-deep weakness has left him.

He moves on to pondering how long Ramsay has been gone.  Maybe he has gone to eat by himself; that would make the most sense.  Reek is strangely comforted by the thought.  It’s more in line with what he is used to.

He is still trying to puzzle things out when Ramsay returns with the food.

Ramsay laughs to see the look on Reek’s face.

“Come here, Reek.” He instructs, setting the meal aside.

It takes Reek a few seconds to untangle himself from the bedclothes.  When he is finally standing, he realizes that Ramsay’s cloak still hangs from his skinny shoulders.

This seems to please his lord, splitting his face into a maniacal grin.

Reek approaches and stands before Ramsay, who takes his face in hand. 

“Still feverish.” Ramsay observes.

“I’m sorry, m’lord.” Reek murmurs, staring at the floor.

“No matter.” Ramsay sighs, but he truly doesn’t sound upset.  “Back to bed with you.”

Reek settles himself down again and Ramsay joins him.  Ramsay returns his attention back to their breakfast, handing Reek a piece of toast laden with eggs.

Reek quickly takes a bite.  He hasn’t been allowed to control his own intake of food in so long; Ramsay sees to what scraps he receives and often feeds him by hand.  Almost instantly, his excitement is replaced by fear. Maybe Ramsay wants him to ask to be fed.  He shouldn’t be so greedy.

Reek carefully sets the food back on the plate.

“Is something wrong?” Ramsay asks.  “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s very good, m’lord.” Reek answers carefully.

“But…?”

Ramsay’s eyes are wide and he looks deceivingly innocent.

“I shouldn’t… take up so much of m’lord’s nice food.  I’m just Reek—just a dog—I don’t deserve… shouldn’t have such nice things.” Reek hangs his head, tears stinging at his eyes.

“Oh, poor Reek.” The lilt of Ramsay’s voice evidences his delight, even as he pulls his mouth in a sardonic pout.  He places two fingers under Reek’s chin and lifts his head so Reek is forced to meet his eyes.

Reek blinks and his tears fall, but he doesn’t try to turn his head away.  He can feel his fever returning with a vengeance.

“Ohh, ohh, shhhh, no tears now.” Ramsay croons, “Come here, little one.”

Ramsay cleans Reek’s tears away with the edge of a bed sheet.  Then he lifts Reek’s discarded piece of toast to his lips.

“Go on now, you need you strength.”

Reek complies and nibbles the crust tentatively.  Ramsay is still in a jovial mood and he keeps talking as Reek continues his meal.

“Having you in my bed last night seems to have worked wonders for me, Reek… Would that I might keep you here every night and by my side everyday.  What do you think about that?”

Reek looks up, unsure if Ramsay actually wants him to answer.  His lord isn’t looking at him; he is talking to himself, trying to decide.

“Father isn’t especially fond of you.”  Ramsay sniffs disdainfully.  “He thinks I’ve exhausted your usefulness.  You’d like him to see that you are still useful, wouldn’t you, Reek?”

“Yes m’lord.” Reek isn’t sure where exactly Ramsay is going with this.

“A bedwarmer is useful.” Ramsay observes.  “Father thinks some of my… activities… reflect badly on the name ‘Bolton.’ Perhaps a constant companion to relieve some of my… urges… is just the thing, eh, Reek?”

“Yes m’lord.” Reek knows most of Ramsay’s ‘urges’ usually hurt, but he answers affirmatively anyway (although not without some trepidation).

“Perhaps I’ll go tell Father of my intentions for you.” Ramsay declares, getting up.

Reek’s stomach seizes, but he attempts to follow, entangling himself in the bedclothes once again in his haste.

“No, no, no.” Ramsay says, catching Reek by the shoulder.  “You’re still much too ill.  Rest.  That’s an order.” Ramsay ushers him back into bed until Reek is reclining once again.

Ramsay tucks the furs around Reek’s small form before pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head.

“Get well, my most precious little Reek!”  Ramsay smiles at him sweetly.

“Yes m’lord.” Reek mumbles.

Ramsay exits, leaving Reek to brood on the possible outcomes of Ramsay’s impending conversation with his lord father.  None of them seem particularly favorable.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter sucks, but maybe it doesn't and you all will like it!  
> Sorry for the long delay!
> 
> Also, join my brand new Thramsay forum that I made! For all your Thramsay-related needs! I'm trying to make it super active and AWESOME.  
> http://thramsay-enthusiasts.freeforums.net
> 
> Thanks for the continued support! Enjoy! <3 <3

It occurs to Reek that much of his time at the Dreadfort is spent waiting – waiting for an order, waiting for a meal, waiting for the removal of a finger, waiting, waiting, always waiting for Ramsay. 

He knew another boy who waited, once.  Waited for his father’s recognition, waited for his birthright…

This sort of waiting is much better, Reek thinks.

Waiting to get well, he nestles down into the covers. 

* * *

 

Without meaning to, Reek dozes. He starts awake only when the door slams.

Reek is momentarily confused.  Where are the girls?  Why isn’t he in the kennels?  Then Ramsay’s hand is in his hair and he remembers.

Ramsay pets Reek hard, pressing his palm against Reek’s scalp.  He doesn’t stop, even as a fist pounds on the door.

“That would be my lord father.” Ramsay muses.

Reek tenses and looks up at his lord.  Why isn’t Ramsay opening the door?  Had he really come back here and shut himself inside, knowing his father was coming? Forcing the Lord of the Dreadfort and Warden of the North to knock and wait on his bastard son to admit him?

The knocking comes again, louder than before.  Reek forces himself not to beg Ramsay to open the door.

After what is only a few seconds, but feels to Reek like an hour, Ramsay finds within him to bestir himself and receive his father.

Roose enters the chamber silently.  When Ramsay is angry, Reek knows him to yell and kick and hit.  Roose is different; his anger is quiet menacing, but it is equally as terrifying as his son’s wrath.

“I’m surprised to see you’re still alive.” Roose comments to Reek.  His tone evidences his complete disinterest in Reek’s state of being.

Reek doesn’t respond; he keeps his eyes on Ramsay.

“I thought turning you over to the care of my son would surely mean the end of you.” Roose continues.

“It appears I’ve thwarted your plans then, Father.” Ramsay says, trying to hid his glee.

Roose is unfazed.

“Yes, well, your efforts haven’t come without the neglect of your duties in my household. Does caring for the boy truly consume so much of your time?”

“I don’t know, Father. Is Warden of the North but an empty title?  Do you truly have nothing better to do than chase after me and my servant?” Ramsay retorts.

Reek sucks in a breath and holds perfectly still.  Why must Ramsay insist on goading his father?

Roose regards his son coolly. 

“You teach your dog his place when you would do well to remember your own.  Keep him as your companion then.  But do not forget I can easily take him from you. Do not forget you have responsibilities.”

“Yes Father.” Ramsay replies stiffly.

Roose looks over Reek in his son’s bed, regarding him carefully once more before leaving them.

Ramsay quickly crosses the room to close the door once again.

“I don’t think I need to tell you not to speak of my… discussions… with my father, to anyone.” Ramsay says, returning to sit beside Reek on the bed.

“Of course, m’lord.” Reek replies.

Not that he has anyone to tell.

“That’s a good Reek.” Ramsay sighs, moving closer.  He drops his head to nuzzle Reek’s neck.

“You’ll be my best bedwarmer.” Ramsay murmurs, “You’ll learn to please me, won’t you, Reek?”

“Yes m’lord.” Reek answers quickly.

Ramsay’s hands are caressing Reek’s sides gently and his lips are busy sucking and nipping at his neck and ear.  Reek feels a strange sensation travel down his stomach to the tickle at the scar between his legs. He whimpers.  He isn’t sure he likes this feeling, but it is preferable to pain.

“We’ll be inseparable.” Ramsay whispers tenderly.  “Look at me now, Reek.”

Reek tilts his head up to look into his master’s eyes.

“Kiss me, Reek. Go on.” Ramsay orders, “Thank me for taking such good care of you.”

Reek nods and does as he is bid, touching his lips to Ramsay’s waiting mouth, ever so carefully. He starts when Ramsay catches his bottom lip with his teeth, but his lord only teases the flesh gently and doesn’t break the skin.

“Such a fragile thing you are.” Ramsay says against Reek’s lips.  “Such a fragile thing, and you’re all mine.”

Reek moans softly, but not from fear.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed... there will be a few more chapters before it's finished.


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